


The Last Time

by RavenAurelieChoiseau



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergent, Childhood Trauma, Cousins, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Forbidden Love, I may be crazy but I saw sexual tension, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Jealousy, Kissing, Lies, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Protection, Protectiveness, Season 1, Season 1 Episode 5, Sexual Tension, implied incest between cousins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 08:07:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17577056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenAurelieChoiseau/pseuds/RavenAurelieChoiseau
Summary: Pablo can't trust anyone. He doesn't trust anyone. Except for Gustavo.How much will it hurt to find out Gustavo might be betraying him?"Perhaps it’s true. We don’t know who we are until we connect with someone else."Gustavo thinks about this. A lot. His food actually has taste when he’s with Pablo. He breathes evenly only with him near, and not in stuttering gulps like when he’s cowering at home.Pablo gifts him serenity. Is that what love is?





	The Last Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sadonsundays](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadonsundays/gifts).



> This takes place in the scene where Pablo waits in the dark for Gustavo in Season 1 Episode 5. I always wondered what Pablo was thinking while he waited.  
> In my story, Pablo flashes back to his childhood, to one particular night with Gustavo when they were teens.  
> I was watching Season 1 again with every intention of writing about Horacio and Javi. (And I will!)  
> And then I caught this... vibe. I told myself I was insane to think someone as macho as Pablo could ever feel something for another man. I watched scenes between them over and over again trying to convince myself otherwise.  
> I wasn't able to shake the feeling. So here it is, my take on the affection between Pablo and his cousin Gustavo, all of their homophobia just a macho front.  
> I've thought about this so much I even freakin' dreamt about Pablo. I hope you'll do me the honor of reading it.

Pain is always there. Because life is fucking painful.   
Suffering? Suffering is a choice.   
  
Pablo decided a long time ago he would choose action. Not submission.   
He would inflict pain, not endure it.   
Verify before trusting.   
  
Pablo grinds his teeth and clenches his jaw so tight it hurts. His feet sway beneath his perch.  
¿Dónde puta está? he thinks to himself. Where the fuck is Gustavo?  
  
Pablo has a suspicion. Now he only needs a confirmation.  
  
He shouldn’t be this upset. He knows better.   
Gustavo’s a grown man. What claim does he have to him?  
Except Pablo does have one. This is his  _primo_ , his  _hermano_. His right hand.  
His… no. He won’t use that word.  
Gustavo is the only person who’s been at his side,  _siempre_. Thick or thin.   
  
Pablo is worried and… pissed. Dissatisfaction plows his brow.   
Gustavo’s been acting like a child lately and Pablo won’t fucking have it.   
It’s been tense since they returned from Panama. Killing Galán was their only ticket back, but now there’s bad blood. Worse than ever. Pablo doesn’t know who he can trust.   
The one person he thinks he can, well … that  _puto_  isn’t here, is he?  
  
Sounds of the countryside keep him company.  
The light that clefts the room pours in through the window, soft and dispersed.  
Pablo waits. Like a father waits for a petulant son who refuses to comply with a curfew.   
  
The packet of coke he’s turning repeatedly in his sweaty palms doesn’t weigh as heavy as his soul.   
  
Shadows drape the room… and the way the night tosses a gauzy grey over everything… hell, even the crickets outside… fuck. It takes Pablo back.   
Back to Envigado. Back to his room shared with Roberto, Luis and Argemiro. Back when things were worse, and somehow also better.  
  
Shit. He didn't plan on being this pensive tonight.

  
**June 1963**  
  
His sisters are asleep in the other room. Roberto’s at a friend’s house, so it’s only Luis and Argemiro. Lightly snoring, his brothers’ backs are turned to Pablo and Gustavo, who are also sharing a tiny bed on the other side of the room.   
Pulled shades blot the glow from the street lamp outside. The warm breeze barely teases the air.  
“¡Qué calor!” Pablo whispers.  
It’s too hot to be covered by anything so the wrinkled top sheet is bunched at their feet.  
Even the slight draft does nothing but suffocate.   
  
The boys are bare-chested, wearing only their white cotton underwear. A film of sweat sheens their faces. Pablo’s fists clench as he murmurs to his cousin.  
“If I find him, I’m going to kill that  _hijo de puta_.”  
Darkness crosses Pablo’s cocoa eyes. He skewers Gustavo with an unflinching look.   
  
Earlier that day, Pablo’s mother had been stopped on the street at knifepoint. A boy with only the hope of a mustache on his upper lip cornered her and snatched her purse.   
She was so upset and shaky when she got back home…  _Dios!_  
  
What makes Pablo even more livid is that he’s a street punk, too. _He_ steals. _He_ mugs. But certain rules apply only when your morals aren’t tucked into your back pocket.  
Nobody better touch  _his_ family.   
“I’m so fucking tired of this, Gustavo. I’m tired of being poor. Tired of my mother getting robbed of what little money she does have. What else can you expect from life when you’re already scraping at rock bottom?! She deserves better. She deserves to be treated like a queen.”  
Gustavo blinks, half nods. He’s been studying the way the solemn illumination catches Pablo’s caterpillar lashes.  _Jesus when did you get to be so beautiful?_  
His tummy clenches.  
  
“I swear to you. I swear. I’m gonna be rich one day.  _You_  and I are gonna be rich,  _hermano_.”  
Pablo rests his hand casually on Gustavo’s bony shoulder, almost in a possessive gesture. Gustavo glances at it and a tingle makes his skin prickle.   
_I shouldn’t be thinking these things. I shouldn’t be thinking I want to reach out and graze his soft chin with my fingertips. Why do I want to kiss him? What am I doing?! Fuck. I’m no maricón!_  
  
Gustavo has been thinking about it though. He thinks about it every time his father’s fist leaves him gasping for air. Every time he’s locked in the cellar without food because the old man comes home drunk for the hundredth time and blames all his troubles on his children. His “ungrateful snot-nosed brats” who only cost him money. (Meanwhile, his dad’s the one blowing his paycheck on booze and whores).  
  
So yeah. Gustavo thinks about this. A lot. His food actually has taste when he’s with Pablo. He breathes evenly only with him near, and not in stuttering gulps like when he’s cowering at home.   
Pablo gifts him serenity. Is that what love is?  
  
“We’ll live like kings,  _primo_. Kings! And I’ll buy my mother the biggest house I can afford and she won’t have to work another day in her life. Maybe I’ll even be President of Colombia one day!”  
Gustavo’s eyes are rapt on Pablo’s lit face. If he stares at him any longer, he’ll give himself away.  
Perhaps it’s true, he muses. We don’t know who we are until we connect with someone else. And Gustavo connected with Pablo _at birth_.   
  
He sighs, moving his attention to the ceiling. There’s a crack near the lamp, and a water stain by the corner. Gustavo thinks it resembles Jesus.   
He lifts the back of his quivering hand to his damp forehead, swinging his restless gaze back to his cousin. An embarrassing tenderness stiffens in his underwear.  
“I know Pablito. I’m with you.  _I’ll always be with you_. We’re gonna get out of this shitty neighborhood and it’ll all change.”  
He folds onto himself, praying Pablo doesn’t notice the bulge between his wringing thighs.  
  
Gustavo knows Pablo is right. What his cousin lacks in physical prowess he makes up for in strides when it comes to intelligence and  _carisma._ When Pablo speaks, the rooms stops and listens.   
Gustavo, well… he’s lucky if he’s noticed at all.  He has his good qualities, too. He’s strong. Smaller in frame than Pablo, he’s wiry. Gustavo’s good with his hands and even better with numbers.  
In his own way, Gustavo’s been looking out for Pablo since… forever. Protecting him from physical harm.  
In all honesty, though, they both have always taken care of each other.  
  
So, when his cousin says he’ll do something _, be someone_ … Gustavo believes him.   
  
Pablo reaches out, tracing the rounded edge of the dark eggplant bruise under Gustavo’s right eye. “ _Mierda_ , that’s still quite the shiner,” he chuckles.   
Three days earlier, they were trying to steal a car. The owner showed and wasn’t pleased. Gustavo stepped in as he was about to strike Pablo.   
“Does it hurt?”  
Gustavo shakes his head. “ _Por nada_.”   
“I forgot to thank you for that.” Pablo flattens down a wavy tuft of Gustavo’s hair. A heat swells up in Gustavo, threatening to swallow him up belly-first.  
  
“No problem,  _primo_. I’ve got your back. I’ll _always_ have your back.”  
Gustavo holds Pablo’s gaze hostage.  
There’s something different in his tone tonight.   
“Are you okay? You seem sad,” Pablo asks.  
  
Gustavo swallows hard. A familiar heat warms his cheeks. _Everything is fine when I’m with you._  
“No, not sad. I just like being here. You know what it’s like at mine. Tià is so nice. Your whole family, it’s just different here. My house? Even the silence is violent.”   
He suppresses a sigh.   
“Fuck, everything is violent,” Gustavo says too quickly.   
  
Pablo wonders what else is under this dark swath of truth Gustavo has just given up. A hushed tone wedges itself between his words.  
“ _Primo,”_ Pablo’s face abandons humor. “Has he hit you again?”   
Thrusting his head forward, he strains to make out any new contusions on his cousin.   
“Always, Pablo. Always. Now the fucker’s just learned how to do it without leaving a mark.”  
  
There’s a stir far down in the set glare of Pablo’s chestnut eyes. He points to the sky.   
“I swear to  _Dios_  I’m going to kill that  _pendejo_  one day. I’ll take you away from all this, Gustavo. I promise.”  
  
Gustavo forces a smile and replies with a tense nod of consent.   
“Thanks, Pablo. I trust you.”  
Pablo exhales, his chest deflating. “Good. Because you’re the only person I trust, Gustavo. You know that? It’s you and me. Forever  _hermano._  I don’t want my brothers mixed up in this shit. We’re in it already. Up to our necks. There’s no going back now, this is our only ticket out. Out of this fucking poverty, out of this fucking shit neighborhood. I can’t imagine anyone else by my side. I wouldn’t want anyone else. I love you, Gustavo. I love you. _¿Entiendes_?”  
His dark head bobs yes.  
“Pablo,” the name feels sweet against Gustavo’s lips. He licks their papery dryness.  
“What?” Pablo’s face drops sideways, inches from Gustavo’s.  
Gustavo reaches for his cousin’s shoulder in a tight and demanding grip. His sex stirs at the contact.   
“Pablo… ”  
  
-  
  
A whistle precedes the tread of approaching footsteps. Gustavo reaches Pablo in two strides.   
“ _Primo_ , what happened?” Gustavo asks.  
“Where were you?” Pablo’s eyes narrow, surveying. The impatience itches under his skin.   
“In the office.”  
“In the office?”  
“Yes.” Gustavo nods, stuffing his hands into his pockets so Pablo doesn’t see them twitch.  
  
“Is that where you were?” A hardline pause is all it takes for Gustavo’s stomach to churn. “Strange, because I called the office, and they said you hadn’t been in all day.”  
He raises his hands in defense before he can think twice about it. “I don’t know which office you called, but I was there. They’re seizing everything, Pablo, all the accounts… ” He swallows, breath a spasm.  
  
The response sends an adrenal tide boiling through Pablo’s blood.  
He slides off the table, feet landing softly on the stone. “We knew there’d be a reaction with Galán, right?”  
“Yeah.” What is he thinking? Gustavo wonders.  
  
“Relax Gustavo. Relax because everything will calm down later.”   
  
Pablo lights the dynamite he’s taken from the crate and swivels to face his cousin. The fuse hisses.   
Alarm ripples along Gustavo’s spine. “What are you gonna do? Kill us both?” Frightened despair creeps into his gaze.  
“You afraid to die?”  
“No,” Gustavo spits. “Are you?”  
Pablo sways his head from side to side. Slowly. Deliberately.  
  
“Put it out.” Gustavo’s voice is sharp, like Pablo’s tongue.  
“Where were you?”  
“Put it out, Pablo.” Gustavo fails to keep the tremor in his throat steady.  
The fuse is dangerously close to its end.  
“PUT IT OUT, PABLO!”  
  
Pablo stares wordlessly, his heartbeat unfaltering. He snuffs it out with two fingertips.   
“Are you with me or what?” Pablo levels a glowering look.  
Gustavo removes his hat, carding his hand through his hair in nervous sweeps.  
“And when have I  _not_  been with you, Pablo?”  
  
Pablo blinks in astonished silence. “From the beginning it’s been you and me. I can’t do this without you.”   
“Are you doubting my loyalty, Pablo?”  
The space between them shrinks, yet there’s more distance than ever.  
“Should I?”  
“Of course not.” Gustavo’s eyes leave Pablo’s face for a flutter of a moment. The guilt is bitter.  
“So where were you?”  
“Pablo, come on… I’m a grown man _, primo_ , I don’t deserve-“   
Gustavo can hear the intake of breath as his cousin takes an abrupt step forward.  
“What don’t you deserve? What, Gustavo?! Because I think I deserve _honesty._ ”  
  
“I’m not lying.” Gustavo smothers a groan.  
Pablo points a finger into Gustavo’s face. “Gustavo. Think twice before answering.”  
“So you don’t trust me anymore?” He shifts indignantly from left to right.  
  
Pablo’s patience has run out. “Gustavo, listen. I can’t find you for hours, and now I’m having serious doubts about the Ochoas. Do the fucking math, which we both know you’re good at.”   
An infinitesimal twitch to Gustavo’s lips tells Pablo he’s hit the mark.   
  
He slams the dynamite on the table.  
Pablo’s heart pounds hard as he comes to a halt just within Gustavo’s face. Fuck. Death doesn’t scare him but the idea of losing Gustavo...  
“Where were you tonight? This is the last chance for you to change your answer.”  
  
His composure suddenly shatters, head turned away in shame. Pablo puts his hand out, catching his chin and forcing Gustavo’s face to his.   
“Look at me.” He’s so close Gustavo can taste the spite in his words.  
“Where  _were_ you?” Pablo’s eyes flick from Gustavo’s pout to his coal glance, thick eyelashes batting.   
  
“Pablo,  _por favor_ … “ Gustavo stammers. He licks his full lips.  
Pablo brings their mouths within the same breathing space.  
“Gustavo… “  
“I was fucking Marina Ochoa,” he whispers. Gustavo shrivels, shoulders arched. He turns away, not wanting suddenly to see the pain in Pablo’s eyes.   
  
Pablo falls on him, _into him._ The memory of their first bruising kiss comes back like a lightning flash.  
Gustavo’s mouth is hard when he kisses back, searching for forgiveness in the cruel ravishment of his lover’s mouth.  
  
The pressure of Pablo’s lips increases as he walks Gustavo against the crates. One hand circles around his neck and one fists into Gustavo’s hair. He yanks his head back.  
“ _NEVER_ lie to me again, Gustavo. NEVER.”  
Somewhere in the back of Gustavo’s mind a shadow moves. “I’m sorry, Pablo. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you… “  
  
Pablo’s tongue stabs at his lips, a pulse flickering in his chest. A spurt of hungry desire spirals through them.  
“Fuck…” Pablo moans. "You're going to be my ruin."   
  
Uncontrolled emotion coats Gustavo’s begging. “Please, Pablo… _please_ … “  
Hands drop to Gustavo’s buckle. Pablo halts when Gustavo whimpers. “I thought we said Panama would be the last time… “  
He doesn't mind. At all. He hasn't thought of anything else.   
  
_“_ Tonight, “ Pablo grunts, the front of Gustavo's pants gaping. “Tonight will be _la última vez. I promise."_

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea if this any good, but I really hope it's different from the usual and that you enjoyed it. Comments and kudos are not only welcome but encouraged.  
> Thanks to the two people I have gifted this to for inspiring me to write Narcos. My work is on no level as good as yours, but I'm going to give it a whirl and hope not to disappoint. 
> 
> I'll be sticking around here for a while. I've just only dipped my toes. :)
> 
> There are phrases present in the fic referenced within episodes of Orange is the New Black and Sons of Anarchy. Thanks to Gabriela G. for helping me with the Spanish. I hope I didn't murder what little I wrote, guapa.  
> The dialogue during the confrontation is mostly verbatim what was said, in translation of course. The rest is my invention.  
> Silence is violent is of course inspired by Twenty One Pilots' song "Car Radio."


End file.
